How to Win a War
by The Ultimate Person
Summary: The Shepherds mean everything to Robin. As the war wages on and lives are put on the line, Robin strives to know each one of her comrades as intimately as possible. (Robin/Everyone)
**AN:** This was heavily inspired by another piece by Def Liepard. Its the same concept, except in this one, I centered it on female Robin and made some different character interpretations. I only did the main bulk of the characters, so I apologize in advance for the lack of Anna, Say'ri, Tiki, Basilo/Flavia, and the spot pass characters. No Morgan or Lucina either for obvious reasons. Still, this was a ton of fun to write and I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Robin, Grandmaster Tactician, wife to the exalt of Ylisse, and World Savior, was thrown into the world with nothing but a blank slate for a mind and an emptiness at the pit of her stomach. Everything was too new, too fast, too complicated. Of all the things she lost, she was at least thankful that her quick wit and adaptability stayed. She was surrounded by a collection of fresh faces, some curious, some suspicious, some simply ambivalent. All with some set of questions, ones that she didn't know and couldn't answer for the life of her. All that she did know was that she damn good at controlling a battlefield. It was a skill that quickly granted her a sense of control and trust that she had never known before.

Soldiers quickly turned to friends. She laughed with these people, she confided in them and defended them with every fiber of her being. Having woken up with no ties or memories of her past, Robin was eager to strengthen these bonds, the room in her heart being boundless.

No matter the battle, no matter the odds, the tactician managed to pull through and claim victory without casualties. Many speculate how the renowned tactician was able to pull off such a feat. Some speculated it had something to do with having hereditary ties a deity. Some say that it was based on pure strategical genius. Many, however, seemed to agree that it was the woman's endless depth of love and devotion for those in her charge that kept so many alive. The lengths, however, that the tactician went through to solidify such bonds went a lot deeper than many were aware of.

* * *

Chrom was the first. He fit the bill perfectly when it came to being a gracious noble, calmly spoken and friendly, yet steadfast and loyal. It was hard not to feel drawn to him, and evidently enough, the feeling was mutual. She could see it coming a mile away, from the lingering glances, to the shaken breath. He had placed so much trust towards her within such a short span of time, there was hardly a problem with developing closeness. The consolidation came in the form of a campfire lit night. Trails of small talk and laughter turned to muffled groans and wandering hands. Of course, neither of them really knew what they were doing; A fledging prince and a bewildered amnesiac probably weren't the best combination in terms of intimacy. But there was a wanderlust for each inch of skin, a desire to learn. And they taught each other. As he pushed into her, her hand remained entwined into his hair the entire time, head buried into the curve of his neck. She held onto him like anchor, keeping her grounded to this new, unrecognizable world. She was lost still, and anxious about what was to come next. But as he smiled at her, gently brushing a stray piece of hair from her face, she felt sense of security she hadn't felt in a while.

Lissa was a sweet girl. A little rash and at times temperamental, but sweet overall. Robin immediately felt the need to protect her, to keep her safe. The young princess brought a brightness to her life that she didn't realize she was missing. When she joined Robin in her tent one night, the evening air was filled with goofy jokes and whispered secrets. Robin didn't know if it was her hand that continuously trailed down Lissa's thigh, or Lissa's hand caressing the edges of Robin's face that started it. She simply remembered a pair soft lips meeting her's, wanting something that she never knew of before. It was the first time Robin took full control of a situation, slightly nervous about messing up. But Robin was gentle and Lissa was kind and the whole night felt as though she was floating on a cloud. She could feel Lissa tighten around her as she steadily pumped her fingers inside of the girl, the sound of her gasps sounding like music to the tactician's ears. When Lissa was finally done, she clung to Robin, burrowing herself into the older woman's embrace. Robin held her closely to her chest, softly kissing the top of her forehead. This was a light she needed to protect.

Frederick the Wary was, as the name states, always wary around her. His trust came at a steady pace and wasn't given as liberally. It wasn't until she tested her mettle in the battlefield a few times did he finally start to warm up to her. He wasn't the complete buzzkill he came off as. He simply took pride in his job, and held the desire to do it thoroughly. Perhaps too thoroughly. While in the middle of changing one night, Frederick unknowingly stumbled upon her, just doing his nightly check ins. The usually stoic knight turned into a blushing mess, trying his best to excuse himself out. Robin stopped him, only to ask if he wouldn't mind helping her undress. Frederick stayed. He always did his job. He was gentle and, of course, thorough, properly undoing and folding each article of clothing. It was only when he felt Robin's lips against his did he realize the job had changed. He was a gentleman the entire night, not really sure what he was doing, but was always happy to oblige. When he went down on her, he was thorough, tongue exploring every crevice, not minding the way she pulled at his hair. When Robin rode on top of him, hips bucking at a wild pace, he made sure to remain steadfast through and through, the bulk of his frame sustaining the tactician's energy. Robin rested her head against his chest, sleepily thanking him for helping her out. There was moment or so of silence. He simply said that he was happy to oblige.

Sully was strong. _Very_ strong. Robin could spend all day watching the woman train, muscles teeming with sweat after hours of strain and hard work. There were knots in her stomach, in part out of admiration, in part out of desire. Despite it all, Robin was never forward about it, and simply concealed her feelings under the guise of compliments and wistful stares. Sully, however, was forward about everything. When Robin made her way down the hall after the training session, she suddenly felt a pair of strong hands shove her against the wall. This was quickly followed by a strong pair of lips that wanted Robin just as badly. Robin was more than happy to oblige to Sully's dominating nature, as she wrapped her arms around the other women's neck. Sully planted kisses with a fervent need, trailing her jawline, down her neck, her collarbone, to her breast. Robin mewled and gasped without shame, all of it echoing down the hallway. It all passed as a blur when Sully dragged her to her bed, hand tight against her's. Perhaps Sully thought they deserved a comfier place to go about their business. Perhaps she just wanted everyone at camp to hear Robin scream her name as she rode into Sully's hand, edging into her third or fourth climax. Robin wasn't sure. She latched onto Sully all the same, sweat teeming against muscles. Sully simply laughed, saying she wouldn't mind doing that again.

Virion wasn't so bad, once you got to know him. For all his bravado and floundering language, he was a good man that actively cared for his countrymen. The whole "Simple archer hiding his noble background" ruse was paper thin at best, considering how he flaunted himself about as if he was still in Rosanne. When she asked him to tell her about his homeland, his eyes immediately lit up, unaware of his own homesickness. He talked for hours of beautiful lush hillsides, the countless acres of sprawling vineyards, and of course the people, vibrant and full of passion. Maybe it was the intensity Robin saw in his eyes, unbridled and beaming. Maybe it was the third bottle of wine they had downed. Nevertheless, something made Robin lead him away from the table and into her bed. Virion wanted to savor every part of her, planting butterfly kisses against whatever patch of skin he could find. As he thrusted into her, moving his hips in a circular motion that never failed to make her moan, he whispered into her ear, spilling words and compliments in a language she didn't recognize. Sleeping with Virion was a surprisingly slow and sensual event, an evening drenched in wine. When he came inside of her, he seemed the most at peace he had ever been. Maybe she reminded him of home.

Never was there a man that was so happy to be average than Stahl. He knew that there wasn't particularly anything outstanding about him in terms of looks or ability. Despite it all, he was also one of the hardest workers amongst the shepherds, always eager to improve himself in any way he could. He was somewhat surprised when Robin took an interest in him, feeling as though he couldn't match up with the princes and nobleman and knights that she's had before. Robin made sure to cement his value, her hand subtly sliding beneath his waist to grasp him, pumping him at a steady, tortuous pace. Just like that, the cavalier was putty in her hands. Stahl did his best to keep up with her, trying to kiss just as hard, trying to use his hands just as deftly as she did. Robin was just happy to take things one step at a time, listening to Stahl's shaky groans making it all worth the while. What he lacked in talent he made for in determination, as he drove into her at a consistent and enduring tempo, as compensation for whatever else he lacked. Needless to say, they were both proud of the progress made that day.

Vaike could be ... A bit much at times. Every time Robin ran into him, he was always asking if she was ready to duel. Almost every time, she turned him down, seeing how she probably couldn't do much with a cup of tea and a book about the migration habits of birds. One day, however, when he approached her, she found herself with nothing to look forward to and a sword coincidentally strapped to her hip. The ensuing duel was a taxing occasion; he had strength, but she had speed. Neither were sure who exactly had won, as both collapsed onto the grass, worn out. However, the adrenaline didn't seem to subside. As the two climbed on top of each other, the ensuing session was just as taxing; he had strength but she had speed. The Vaike plowed into her with a bellowing strength, as she shook beneath him, hands clawing against his broad back. When Robin got on top, she rode him like a war horse, quickly bouncing up and down his shaft, as he was barely able to keep up without blowing his load. After both sides came multiple times over the span of the day, neither was still sure who won. Neither really cared.

Robin wasn't particularly sure if Miriel held any interest in her at all. She herself admired the Mage for her skillful use of magic, somewhat envious of her talent - she wasn't all that bad to look at either. But Robin never really had any plans or expectations of her, seeing as she was more interested in scholastic study than more base occupations. It came as a complete surprise to Robin when she approached her, expressing her desire to experiment with another woman, seeing as she already had enough data on men. Robin, of course, was never one to turn a friend down. She could hear Miriel mumble under her breath as Robin took her clothes off, following with a blanket of kisses against the newly exposed skin, the mage's note taking interrupted by the occasional sigh or harsh breath. It became a bit of a game to Robinnas she dove her face between Miriel's legs, to see how frequently she could disrupt the Mage with a high-pitched moan, or how tightly she could get her to wrap her legs around her head, needing more with each second. Despite wanting to keep to an objective hypothesis, Miriel always seemed to want more, guiding her hands to another part of her body, or leading the tactician's lips back to her's. In the end, Mirel told her that the results were awfully fruitful. However, reliability still required multiple trials.

Robin wished that Sumia could see herself the way she saw her. With Sumia, Robin was the least subtle in hiding her affection, always complimenting her and holding her hand. Sumia always blushed and shook her head, hardly feeling like she deserved any of the praise Robin gave her. Whenever they made love to each other, Sumia tried her best to be someone else, like the heroines she read about in her novels, that never failed to be competent. Someone less clumsy, someone more sexy, someone more of anything. One night, when the lights had dimmed, and the day drew to a quiet, Robin gently held Sumia's face within her hands, foreheads pressed against each-other, and told the girl that she wanted only her tonight, no one else. Robin kissed away whatever tears she had, her hands gently wandering across the curves of her body. Robin's kisses were slow and deep, wanting Sumia to know how much she meant to her. As Sumia crossed her leg over her's, Robin held her up as she grinded into her, gently rocking away any doubts either of them had. Sumia refused to let her go all the while, wanting every moment to last just little while longer. As they began to fall asleep into each others arms, Robin's hand remained caressing the side of Sumia's face, thinking about how lucky she was.

It took Robin a solid hour to find Kellam. The whole camp was having a celebration and he was nowhere in sight. After looking through every possible nook and cranny, she managed to accidentally stumble across him when she went to find a resting place. The knight said that she managed to pass him six times, staring right past him in the last two, as he nursed his drink in silence. Sheepish apology aside, Kellam seemed relieved to have someone to talk to. He insisted that no one missed him, and wouldn't even see him if he was there. Robin insisted otherwise, as she convinced him to keep her company for the night. Despite the air of revelry and the clear indication that Robin had her fair share of drinks, Kellam quietly asked permission for each kiss, for each article of clothing he slipped off. His hands were strong, but careful, as they grasped around the sides of her thigh. His grip around her strengthened as he entered her, rocking against her hips with concentrated intent. All the while, Robin held herself tightly against him, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, her kisses tender and passionate. In this one moment, she wanted Kellam to feel like she really saw him; like he really mattered. The morning after, Robin woke up to an empty bed, still warm. As she looked to her side, she saw a plate of her favorite morning pastry, next to a bundle of recently collected wildflowers.

Donnel was a sweet boy. He practically followed her around like a puppy dog, wanting to learn everything there is to know about being a proper shepherd. She grew a liking to the boy, as he picked up things at an extraordinary rate, and always with a smile. The boy seemed to have developed a small crush on her, as he strived for her approval at every turn. Robin didn't really mind; She was always eager to teach. After long day of taking care of errands and camp duties, the two settled under a tree, taking a relaxing break from it all. After a while of messing around, Robin was certain that one chaste kiss wouldn't lead to anything. She greatly underestimated teenage hormones, and her own handle on self-restraint. Within the next few minutes, she found herself teaching him something completely different, as she found herself on top of him, mouths completely inseparable. It became an exciting day of exploration for the both of them, as she told him where to touch and where to suck and what pace he should keep his thrust to prevent from cumming too soon. The young man was ever so eager to please, following each instruction to a T and picking up everything at very nice rate. He was absolutely beaming once he was able to get her off, as she repeated his name with ragged breath, steadily riding herself out before he himself exploded inside of her. Robin realized that she wouldn't mind being a teacher, if it meant she was able to work with such a hard working pupil.

Robin honestly had no plans for Lon'qu whatsoever. Seeing how she could barely talk to the man without being at least ten feet apart, she wasn't seeing any sort of intimate interaction between them in the future. Nevertheless, the two were progressively learning to get along and enjoyed each others company, as she'd occasionally catch him with a smirk or a low chuckle. Robin all the while saw no point in hiding her attraction to him, training together and flirting with him throughout. However, one night, after the myrmidon lashed out at her during a training skirmish, Robin set out to his tent to give him a piece of her mind. The last thing she expected amongst the arguing and the screams was to find his arms around her, lips hungry against her own. She quickly tore off her coat and made a fast work of tearing through his tunic. They grasped at each other with desperate hands and tightened grips, wanting this so badly after several prolonged weeks. Before entering her, he rubbed his cock against the furrow of her slit, wanting her to feel how much he wanted her, how she made him feel. After he plunged into her, the two were inseparable, weeks of endurance training preparing them for this moment. All the while her legs tightly wrapped against his back, refusing to let him go until he satisfied her over and over again. Needless to say, the two agreed that they needed to fight things out more often.

If there was such a thing as being to too eager to please, Ricken embodied it. More than anything, Ricken just wanted to prove that he wasn't a little kid. He studied tirelessly, threw himself at the front lines, and ran through spells until the break of dawn. She appreciated his effort, and she let Ricken know. Recently however, his newest attempts at maturity came in the form of flirting. To most, a teenage boy trying to woo a grown woman just a head above his height would've come off as laughable. But she appreciated his effort, and she was always one to let actions speak for themselves. The next few minutes were probably the most nerve racking minutes of Ricken's young life, growing ever the more shaky as Robin ran her hands down his bare body. Even more so when she put her mouth around his cock, slowly going from the tip to the bottom, as literal shivers ran down his spine. It took a while for Ricken to gain a sense of confidence, even if it only came in the form of breathy pleas and grasping hands. He told her he wanted to do better next time, even as he laid exaushted and spent. Robin kissed him shortly and sweetly. There was no rush.

Maribelle was an interesting case. Over and over again, she insisted that should wouldn't dream of performing any lewd acts with a lady, especially one of Robin's stature. Nevertheless, the two participated in a steady, but subtle courtship; Maribelle was always happy to set an afternoon tea session, and Robin was always ready with a bouquet of flowers. But it wasn't really courtship, Maribelle insisted; it's simply what friends did. One such evening, they dined by the lakeside, with no romantic pre-text whatsoever. Maribelle wouldn't let Robin kiss her on the lips, so she took liberty with every other part of her body. Robin snuggly hugged her from the back, delicately pressing kisses against each of Maribelle's fingers. Robin's kisses were then directed to noblewoman's neck, only to be more so encouraged by softened moans, as the tactician's hands went to work on undressing her. As she inserted her fingers into Maribelle's folds, she felt the noblewoman press her body against Robin's own, biting down whatever noise was threatening to leave her mouth. Maribelle was all the more appreciative to being pampered in such a way, grasping tightly against her. As she edged towards release, Maribelle grabbed Robin by the hair and crushed her lips against her own for the first time, completely catching the woman off guard. The rest of the night left Robin wondering what the noblewoman's definition of "friendship" really was.

Panne absolutely fascinated Robin. From a scholarly standpoint, she was the last of her kind and represented a cradle of knowledge that was almost lost to the ages, knowledge that Robin wanted to help preserve. But aside from that, Robin just felt at ease within the taguel's presence. She was calming and sincere, not to mention patient with Robin's insistent questions. Much like Virion, she had no trouble painting mental pictures for Robin, as she talked of large prides tracking the hillsides, various different tribes being able to turn into different animals. And much like with Virion, Robin was absolutely enraptured, unsure of how she found herself with her finger's tangled in the woman's hair, gently pulling her in. Panne was just as receptive, as her kisses pushed Robin against the grass hillside, hand pulling Robin's thigh up against her waist. The entire time, Robin was amazed by how she transitioned between cordial and animalistic, as Panne went from gently nuzzling against the crook her neck one second, to leaving bite marks against her shoulder within the next. As the sun drew downward, she held Robin protectively, as her hand gently traveled up and the down the crook of her back. The two realized they didn't have to traverse this world alone.

Gaius was the sort of guy that knew how to have a good time. With a laid back attitude, and sweet tooth for all things dangerous and sugar filled, Robin knew she had to get a taste of him. It was Gaius himself that got things rolling, wanting to take Robin to a night on the town. All the while, he danced, he laughed, and he probably stole something at some point (upon later checking, turned out to be just a bag of gumballs with smiley faces on them). Robin simply let herself get lost in the ride, seeing things through the thief's eyes. The energy followed them all the way home, tearing at each others clothes they second stepped into the tent. Gaius wasted no time, wanting to clearly demonstrate his skill set to the beautiful woman before him. The man's mouth was a blessing and curse rolled into one, leaving bite marks wherever he pleased, his tongue skillfully worked over her as if she was hard candy. Between her legs, however, was the main dessert, and there was absolutely nothing better for Gaius. She couldn't help herself as she bucked her hips uncontrollably against his face, her breathing growing ever the more short and high pitched. Gaius might've been too crafty for his own good, and delighted heavily in teasing the tactician in any way he could. Robin felt like by the end of the night, every single inch of her been tasted or sampled in some way. As he bit at her tongue for the last time, he muttered something about how she was the sweetest thing he had in a while. She cherished that compliment more than she'd like to admit.

Robin wasn't sure of how to approach Cordelia. Was she jealous of her? Was she in awe of her? Was she just attracted to her? The strange combination of emotions left Robin light in the head and weak in the knees. It was rare to come across a person that was good at so many things, from cooking, to instrument playing, to stabbing risen in the face. She kept herself from making advances simply out of fear of embarrassing herself in front of the Pegasus knight. It was Cordelia that came into her tent one night, curious about the tactician's odd behavior. Amidst the conversation, Robin must have pulled her towards her, mouth strong against her's after weeks of self-imposed repression. Cordelia seemed almost relieved, muttering something about taking long enough. Robin dedicated the night to worshipping the woman, grasping whatever part of her she could, lips appreciating the softness of her skin. All the while, Cordelia moved against her with a sense of fluidity and grace; even as she lost her breath, the flow of her hips was mesmerizing, her whispered encouragements sending shivers down the amnesiac's spine. Robin felt it a great privilege to kiss her, to taste her, to curl her fingers into her, each responding moan sounding just as beautiful as the last. Phenomenal woman, Robin would call her, legs and fingers completely intertwined. For once, Cordelia was too tired to protest.

The more Robin looked around, the more she realized that Gregor was likely the oldest person within camp (immortal dragon children aside). He sure didn't act his age, as he was boisterous and lively as ever, simply happy to provide his skills for a good cause and a good pay. She always came to the mercenary whenever she wanted to hear stories about certain jobs, or just have a decent drinking partner. During one particular night of merriment, Robin drunkenly joked about how much it would cost to have him for the night. Gregor simply laughed, noting that this wasn't the first time he's been asked such a question. He wanted to clarify, of course, that for Robin, he was always free. For the next following hours though, Robin honestly had to fight the urge to tip him somehow. Gregor was a cacophony of experience, as he ravished her with practiced precision and unwavering endurance. He was a rough man, sure; his skin was as tough as leather, marred with years of scars and burns. His hands were worn and calloused things, but they touched with cautious intent, from the wetness between her legs to the softness of her cheek. Even as he rammed inside of her, practically shaking the room around them, he seemed in control, knowing exactly how to make her squeal. Robin swore she would find a way to reimburse him somehow. Gregor simply grunted in response, not wanting to kill the mood with a broken set of words.

Robin had mixed feeling about Nowi. The girl was hundreds of years old, retaining experience and knowledge that Robin could only dream of possessing. At the same time, this was the same girl that occasionally needed a book to sit upon at the dinner table. Nowi was a moral dilemma that Robin didn't have the time or the intelligence to figure out. Nowi, however, was insistent. Her attempts at flirting were cute at best, and her definition of "swooping a woman of her feet" was very literal (her use of dragon form has been severely regulated since the last incident). It wasn't until the girl came sniffling into Robin's arm, distraught over not being good enough, did Robin finally consider giving it a chance. Despite the girl's insistence that Robin "give it her all", Robin proceeded into the most cautious and gentle love making experience she's ever had. Her kisses were soft and short, never asking for more than she received. She never moved too suddenly, making sure her actions were clear and permission was given. As her kisses drew between the girl's thighs, they were steady and somewhat tame, not wanting the manakete to feel mistreated in any way. And as the girl snuggled into her arms, the tactician was content to sing her into sleep.

Before Robin had even spoken a word to Libra, she made sure to mentally pray to Naga for forgiveness for what she was about to eventually do to the man. At this point, Robin accepted that she was simply a master of pushing the envelope, hoping that a man of the cloth wouldn't mind. He was gorgeous for a priest, with gentle unblemished features and long blond tresses that even she could get lost in. His personality was even more pure, as he proved himself to be kind and mild mannered. It made Robin all the more bashful as she dropped hints around him. The man didn't mind; he was an advocate for all kinds of healing, the sexual kind not being off boundaries. Libra was happy to let Robin undo the clasp against his clothes, gently trailing kisses against his neck. Sleeping with Libra wasn't a particularly passionate endeavor, as he didn't actively move against her or make any particular sounds. But it was a pleasant one nevertheless, as Robin took appreciation for what he offered. He had a surprisingly strong frame, his chest toned and broad from handling the axe. But his touch was light as a feather, hands carefully placed at her side, nothing but sweet words falling from his mouth. As she rolled her body against him, it was almost impossible to break eye contact with the priest, his gaze soft, but intense all the while, holding her close as she shuddered around him. Perhaps, she figured, blessings came all in forms.

Robin had to admit, a tiny part of her was scared of Tharja. The woman acted intensely around her enough, she couldn't imagine what it would be like if they carried it over to the bedroom. Robin knowing how things were, knew undeniably that things would go there at some point. Before they did anything of the sort, Robin made sure to discuss the conditions upon which it all went down, from the prohibition of any sort of curses or hexes, to the agreement that she'd be fully conscious the entire time. Aside from that, Robin ensured, she was her's to take advantage of. She wasn't sure which worried her more, the pleased laughter that followed, or the abundance of rope she saw being procured. Next thing she knew, Robin found herself tied and blind folded, left bare and open to the dark mages pleasure. Tharja crawled over her at slow, somewhat menacing rate, like a predator coming in for the kill. Tharja was deliberate with her, making sure she felt every single touch with a focused attention, only to ask for more. She was helpless as Tharja had her way, her tongue teasing the tips of her breast, fingers rubbing against her slit at a torturous rate. Robin could feel her skin chafe as she pulled against her binds, gasping and begging for release. Each time, she was simply met with a finger in her mouth, laced with her own moisture, before the mage's tongue came to explore for herself. And as the night passed by and Tharja played her games, Robin didn't bother to hide the rope markings the morning after.

Robin wanted Olivia to know that she was her biggest fan. She'd frequently stumble into the girl's practice sessions, absolutely bewitched by the dancer's movements. Olivia being Olivia, bashfully shrugged off the lavish praise Robin adorned, but was always appreciative of the woman's company. At one point, Robin was personally invited to one of these sessions within her tent, as Olivia told her that she tailored this one specially for her. Curious and somewhat excited, Robin attended, wondering all the while. As the tactician sat down, Olivia came towards her, hips moving with a hypnotizing sway. Robin finally understood the dance for what it was, as the dancer gracefully moved against her lap, wrapping herself around tactician in ways that made the woman burn with desire. Robin couldn't keep her hands off of her, holding her close and planting kisses against her collarbone. It was a dance that Robin knew well, one that even she could understand. And she was a considerate partner all the while, matching the flow of movement Olivia established, meeting her beat for beat. With entangled legs and rolling hips, they moved in unison, harried breath and muttered pleas only enhancing the performance. Gone was the timid young dancer, as Olivia left her absolutely breathless, moving so confidently that the woman struggled to keep up. It wasn't until morning did Robin finally stop complimenting her, making sure she knew she was the most beautiful thing Robin had ever been blessed to know.

* * *

Despite the odds, despite the overwhelming despair that casted over all of them, the Ylissian army managed to beat the mad king of Plegia. The soldiers rallied behind the stalwart prince and his loyal tactician as they pushed the front lines. The day was remembered for many things, from the amazing victory over the plegian forces, to the prince taking the tactician's hand in marriage. The world had finally found piece from that day on.

The next couple of years were interesting for Robin. Her first memories of the world were that of conflict and the heat of battle. It took her a while to adjust, though she was in no part ungrateful for the peace they had found. And while she was still welcome within the beds of her comrades, many of them began to settle down with each other. Nevertheless, Robin was content in helping rebuild Ylisse and training new recruits, the newly crowned exalt at her side. In that time, Robin was even blessed with a daughter, a young girl with blue hair and mark of the exalt within her eye (Much to the relief of herself and everyone in the royal court). In the that small amount of time, Robin had found friends, family, and a life to call her own.

Of course, such peace didn't last. War had already struck within Valm, and Ylisse was bound to be pulled into the conflict. While reluctant to let go of her life of content, Robin was ready to take up the helm once more. Those that fought with them before showed no hesitation in supporting their beloved tactician. Many more eventually joined the shepherds in their cause, many that Robin was eager to get to know.

* * *

With Cherche, Robin didn't know where the line between care taker and life companion was drawn. Robin almost felt bad every time she spoke with the rider, taking precious time away from Minerva. To her luck, the dragon seemed to like her, and as a result, Cherche liked her as well. Trying her best not to think of the alternative, Robin insisted upon helping the woman out, managing equipment and grooming the wyvern. And when Cherche came to her, eyes heavy and hands lingering, Robin still wondered if this was some sort of agreed consensus between her and the dragon. For the night, she pushed it out of her head, simply happy to unlatch each separate piece of armor, each unveiling increasing her tenacity. The wyvern rider led her in, pulling at her coat and nipping at the edges of her jaw, a territorial instinct already developing. It was hard to ignore that Cherche was a strong woman, legs beautifully chiseled after years of riding upon dangerous winged creatures. Robin felt those same legs tightly enclose around her as mouth explored between the women's legs, as she paid tribute to both her strength and her beauty. Cherche was a greatly responsive lover, knowing the refined taste of nobles, while also sustaining the wild nature of scaled beast. She treated Robin all the same, kissing her just as daintily and riding her just as harshly. Cherche provided a better night than she expected her to, and she slept peacefully after it. Of course, when Robin woke up to a curious wyvern staring not a foot away from her, Robin had to set some boundaries for the sake of her weak heart.

It was safe to say that after her last roll with a certain Plegian dark Mage, Robin was cautious around Henry. The cheery demeanor and the irresistible need to make bird puns was one thing. The fact he always had such a fun time on the battlefield, laughing as his enemies screamed and blood soaked through his robes, was another. She liked Henry, she really did, but the ever wavering sense of allegiance was something she couldn't ignore. Henry was the one to tell her that he honestly did appreciate everything the Shepherds have done for him. That night, with honest sincerity and slightly less feather jokes than usual, Henry proved his dedication to her and the cause. The dark mage kissed her with a sense of hunger, eager to devour what he could, as Robin was just overall unprepared for the man's enthusiasm. All the more, Henry proved to be a very physical lover, as he bit at her shoulder, fingers clawing down the expanses of her back. As he drew blood, Robin hissed in response to the pain, only to grind her hips harder into his. Henry loved seeing her squirm, to see her face contort from either pleasure or pain. He was all the more pleased when she bit him back, his hands desperately clutching at her thighs. The whole night was messy in a way she didn't realize she'd like, as the two tasted and touched each other in more ways than one. Henry hoped to prove where his loyalties lie. Robin hoped to renew that loyalty again at some point.

Owain was a sweet guy, he really was. Of course, his constant stream of monologues and outburst of poetic anguish could be overbearing at times, but the tactician didn't blame him. It was obvious to her that these future kids never really got the chance to grow up properly. Owain simply had a big imagination that needed a proper outlet. Of course, it didn't hurt that he'd often call her things like "the radiant maiden that will deliver us all" or "the beautiful angel of salvation, swooping down with wings of fire". He could get carried away, sure, but he wasn't completely non self aware. When he held her in his arms, forehead pressed against her own, he promised "not to be weird for once" and would try to act normal for the sake of the evening. She told him otherwise, as she wanted him to feel completely open with himself whenever he was with her. And as he spent the night with her, he spun sonnets in her name, from the curve of her lips to the flow of her waist. He didn't speak in the loud boisterous manner he usual had, but in soft, whispered mutterings, held against her ear as she dug her fingers into his back. Even as she rode on top of him, his words broken up by groans and sharp intakes of breath, his mouth searched for all the different ways and languages to call her beautiful. When words failed him, he'd kiss her, speaking less with the structure of his words and more with the shape of his tongue. The entire night, Owain made her feel truly admired, like she was a muse of an epic in the making. When dawn broke, still nestled within his arms, Robin woke up to gentle whispers, comparing her to the sunrise.

Cynthia was a lot to contain. For all the crazy Robin had to deal with during her time as head tactician, she still struggled to keep up with the girl's energy. The Pegasus knight was always dragging her left and right, demonstrating her newest entry move, asking her whether or not firecrackers or doves would be better release into the air. (Or both, flaming doves notwithstanding) "Overbearing" was the word that often came to mind, but Robin struck it down, not wanting to give Cynthia the same old grief for who she was. Why not indulge her instead? For once, she let Cynthia be her hero, to sweep her gallantly off her feet and into the bed room. The energy picked up right from the get go. Hands quickly ran through her hair, snaking beneath her robes the next second, as butterfly kisses planted against every corner of her face. Cynthia was full of impassioned enthusiasm that simply needed a more mature touch in guidance. She let Cynthia be over the top, with every squeal, every grasp, every jerk of the hip. While the girl had vigor, she never truly wrangled control from Robin. It was an interesting process, having the knight believe she was the one in charge, even as Robin was the one that curled her fingers and flicked her tongue all the while. Robin was just happy to provide some true hero worship, as she breathily praised the girl's feats in between every harried kiss. In response, the girl moaned all the more deeply, grinding her hips harder into the tactician's hand. In some ways, it was an act - in some ways, it wasn't. Ultimately, it was the pure unbridled joy that Robin saw in the girl's eyes that made it worth it all the while.

Laurent was a very interesting one. The boy was so much like his mother, right down to the pattern of speech and the avid pursuit for discovery. At first glance, he seemed almost like a direct clone. Further talks with him proved otherwise. While his mother seemed almost stuck in her own world, pursuing knowledge for the sake of pursuit, Laurent always used his knowledge to benefit others, to make things just a little better. He was fascinated by the world, but he was also fascinated by the people within it. Robin was no exception, as he did nothing to hide his desire to discover what he could about the tactician. Laurent was amazed by all of it, from the shape of her bare figure, to the intonation of her moans. His fingers deliberately traced the outline of her body, wanting to know every intimate detail by heart; every birthmark, every scar, every wonderfully sensitive area. He took no real notes per say, unless repeatedly muttering the words "Remarkable" and "Amazing" under his breath counted as recording data. He took his pleasure less in the actual act of taking her, as she needfully grounded herself onto his lap, but more in the flush of her cheeks, the grip of her fingers, the heaviness in her eyes. Robin unraveled in front of him, and he was enraptured with every single inch. He admitted that he stopped taking notes a while ago. He just wanted to enjoy the moment for what it was: Magical.

With Kjelle, Robin honestly expected a rough night. Of course, there was no ignoring that the girl was an absolute bulwark of muscle and could probably split logs with her bare hands. But there was also the fact that the girl would no doubt try to live up to her mother's name in terms of sexual dominance. Robin braced herself for the sudden ravishing, hoping that the girl wouldn't be too eager to prove herself. Instead, Robin was faced with the knight standing with an upright posture before her tent, blushing profusely, firmly but politely asking if she may accompany her for the night. She was surprised by the approach but all the more happy to let her in. Kjelle proved to be more of a perfectionist than anything, honestly wanting to do her best to please the tactician. She constantly asked whether or not she was doing something right, from the force of her kisses to the meanderings of her fingers. Robin was eager to guide her and direct her strength towards certain destinations. And as the girl's strong hands firmly grasped at the edges of her thighs as she dove at the center between her legs, Robin honestly didn't know if she took more pleasure from the work of her tongue, or being respectfully referred to as "ma'am" all the while. Robin ended up tightly wrapped within the girl's toned arms, as she promised to keep the tactician safe for the night. Robin never knew she'd find chivalry this attractive.

It was a matter of insecurity when it came down to Brady. He told her himself; he was physically weak, his posture was crooked, his face was funny, his manner was crude, etc., etc. With Brady, there was no false bravado or front of confidence; he laid it all in the open, frustrations and violin scars abound. She deserved a better man than him, he said, someone stronger or more handsome. Even as she ran her hand through the tuft of his hair, nurturing and gentle as she held his head in her lap, he genuinely believed he didn't deserve any of it. When she drew her lips against his own, she sought to banish away his doubts, at least for just one night. With Brady, there was a coyness she didn't realize was capable of men, as he was slow to release both his inhibitions and his clothing. Once he decided to embrace her, however, he held onto her firmly, adoring the warmth and security her smaller frame ensured. Even as rocked on top of him, he found solace in the crook of her neck, the curve of her waist, and the strength of her arms. Comfort was what Brady truly desired, not to be screwed out his wits. And all the while, she whispered sweet encouragements, hands gentle in their meanderings, softly grazing her lips against the scar on his eye. He held her close, encapsulating her within the cradle of his arms, cozy and secure. When he turned away from her afterwards, she knew that he was just trying the hide away the tears forming his eyes. As she kissed each one away, Brady finally felt like he was enough.

Severa was very much a surprise. Half her interactions with the girl involved breaking up various skirmishes and fights, while the other half involved getting lobbied at with a barrage of insults. The girl was a massive test in diligence; typically, Robin had a natural talent for getting her companions to open up. With Severa, she practically had to fight for it. She'd pull and push, she'd compliment the tactician, only to put her down the next second. And as Severa snarked and snapped and chided at her for the last time, it was Robin that finally broke. In the span of heart beat, Robin crushed her lips against her's, forceful and without reserve. She was met with equal tenacity, hands rough against the hems of her clothes as they were torn off. It was as if Severa ignited a violent sort of fire that she never knew she held, as she held the girl down with all her weight, biting and smacking and grasping without caution. And oh was she in high demand, as the mercenary barked orders the entire time, faster, harder, more teeth, only broken up by the deep guttural moans she emitted. Robin pulled at her hair, bit at her tongue, and shoved as much of her fingers as she could inside the girl. While Robin had a tendency to reserve some level of tenderness with all of her partners, Severa was perhaps the first girl she ever truly fucked. It was only when lull of sleep overcame her was Robin finally allowed some peace. For such a vulgarly rough person, Robin found out that Severa was an equally aggressive snuggler.

Yarne was perhaps the most prepared. Not because he was particularly excited or looking forward to the idea of bedding the head tactician, but more so because he wanted to quiet down his own anxieties about the whole thing. On one hand, he was very glad, considering how if Robin of all people was interested in him, there was hope yet for carrying on the taguel race. On the other, he had heard stories of her rougher exploits, and wholeheartedly feared her capacity to ravage him. Eventually, he came to her in a fit of overflowing worries, his words jumbled and shaky. Robin cautiously held him, planting gentle kisses, ensuring that they didn't have to do anything if he wasn't ready. He finally eased down, feeling safe within the woman's arms. He liked the feeling of her kisses, so he kissed her back. He liked how soft her hands were, so he let them undo the armor strapped against him. He liked the way that Robin said his name, with care and warmth, so he held her close and entered her slowly, wanting to feel that same care and warmth physically. Yarne didn't provide the same animalistic physicality his mother did, but he was just as protective, mutually assuring with each steady thrust. In a strange twist of events, it was Yarne that ended up taking care of her, providing a firm set of hands and an open shoulder to snuggle into. And as she laid within his arms, she could feel the sense of trust emitting through the comfort of his embrace.

Noire had her own set of precautions. Not out of any real fear or worry, as she trusted Robin wholeheartedly when it came down to intimacy. She was more worried about herself. She'd toss the talisman in her hand back and fourth, unsure of who Robin wanted her to be, who she wanted to be. She was only ever to soft or too violent, too frail or too striking. Noire never really knew a happy medium, nor even happiness itself. Robin herself found it to be a very unique dilemma, but she promised to care for her, whoever she was in evening to whoever she woke up to in the morning. She ensured her with every kissed she trailed against the contours of her collarbone, her hand gently interlaced with the archer's. She didn't lead Robin anywhere, but she appreciated every direction it took. She gently ran her hands through Robin's hair as the tactician's lips graced her folds, lip biting and whimpers abound. Perhaps the talisman had slipped. Perhaps she misplaced. Perhaps it wasn't even the talisman at all, but a deep, innate part of her. Either way, Robin specifically remembered how Noire's hands gripped against her shoulders, turning her over and pushing her down, as Noire suddenly came into power, hungrily nipping at the edges of her jaw. It was all certainly a shock to Robin, but she had no complaints as the girl curled her fingers deep into the tactician and claimed her lips as her own. At one moment, Noire shuddered against her with gentle murmurs, and within the next, was grabbing and pulling and leaving her mark. And Robin absolutely adored her at each turn.

Inigo began with a promise; to dance with her at the next camp celebration. It was a nice, simple request, and while he still tried his best to play up the smooth ladies man shtick, he toned it down for the sake of his superior. The young man seemed to struggle with being absolutely genuine, but when a driving beat and lively melody kicks in, he could finally ease into comfort. There was grace his steps, a developed sense of control, and a certain dramatic flair that Robin could've sworn was exactly like Olivia's. When dance entered the bedroom however, she could sense his confidence falter, as everything became so close and personal and open for scrutiny. If he couldn't get lost in the dance, at least he could get lost in the sway of Robin's hips, which was practically the same effect. While perhaps not as experienced or refined, Inigo fluidly transitioned into each movement, as his body rolled against Robin's with the nuance of a performer. He circled and he swayed and he treated her not as a watcher, but as a partner in the dance, as she followed his every motion, clutching onto him throughout. While Robin contributed to the dance, it was Inigo she got to see truly shine, poised and skillful as he buried himself within her. As Inigo eased into her, he seemed comfortable with the vulnerability he displayed, at least just for the night.

Nah was exceptionally formal with Robin. She followed orders swiftly and without complaint, she was always humble and mild mannered, and she balanced her responsibilities with ease. Perhaps out of a need to provide stark contrast from her off the wall mother, perhaps out of her own habit. Boldness and initiative, however, was never her forte, as Robin could see the way she bit at the edge of her lips, words colliding every so often and hands tentative with the way they moved. Even when Nah did finally muster up enough courage to at least drop euphemisms and hints and nudgings, she couldn't help herself from laughing at the embarrassment of it all. Robin couldn't help but laugh along, approaching each kiss in a steady fashion. Nah never really stopped being a blushing mess, as she buried herself within the nape of Robin's neck, pulling against the hems of her jacket. They talked throughout the whole thing, as Robin's humor helped ease her from her clothes into the tactician's arms. They laughed and they whispered and they muttered and they gasped, and the conversation contoured around the points that she kissed and touched. Here, Nah was finally comfortable. Here, she could wrap her arms and press her body against another and mutter sweet, meaningless things that made even Robin flutter. Of all the things Robin wanted out of Nah, she simply wanted the girl to feel at ease for once in her life; every dumb joke and lingering kiss assured that. For once, Nah didn't have to worry. Even as she sensed the darkness flowing through, she paid it no mine; no one this kind could do them such harm.

She knew that Gerome would be a difficult case. Not an impossible one; watching the way the boy treated his wyvern, she knew for sure that he was capable of deep care and affection. Hiding was just his talent, from the mask on his face, to the icy composure he always wore, and he certainly wasn't going to reveal himself to some strange tactician that had probably died in the future before he could meet her. Nevertheless, she lingered and she chatted and she even took the time to greet Minerva, hoping the wyvern didn't hold her tryst with their previous owner too personally. Noting the warmth between her and the wyvern, it was as if a whole new channel of Gerome opened up. She saw the crook in his smile, heard the timbre of his laugh, and felt the unusual softness of his hands. He was still reserved; but he let her see the cracks in his armor, the same way her hands unclasped each piece one by one. Even as she ran her hands down his well toned body, from the curve of his neck to the base his shaft, he seemed stoic, nonrespondent even. Nevertheless, his hands gripped her tightly, grasping at the edges of her waist for dear life when she took his length inside of her. He practically shook the entire barn with each thrust, his incredible strength being put to good use. In contrast, his lips against her's were soft; steady and slow, as if trying to communicate his adoration in words he had long forgotten. The mask still never left. She understood and didn't bring it up. She simply appreciated what she had, that being sweet drawn out kisses paired with a good hard ramming. She made a mental note to thank Minerva in the morning for being such a good wing-man.

* * *

When Robin was found unconscious amidst a field of grass, everyone swore it was a miracle. Their cherished tactician, the one that had sacrificed herself in order to defeat grima, lived. Friends, family, and just about all Ylisse celebrated and found true prosperity once more.

To this day, scholars have argued and squabbled over how this occurred, how one woman was able to defy all odds. Nevertheless, the common theory persist that it was the bounds the tactician had forged amongst her comrades that kept her tethered to the world. Having woken up in a world of strangers, Robin was surrounded by those that had missed her dearly. The people that fought with her loved and devoted themselves completely, as she did for them. Robin, as she was known to frequently proclaim, couldn't have been happier.


End file.
